My sister told me on the phone, "You sound depressed."
I laughed. "Me? Depressed? No."
But when she said it I thought, "Wait, I'm not. Right?"
Depression is that dark, hooded creature that comes up behind us. It pulls us down permanently. It is not a temporary thing, is it? It cannot be situational or cyclical. It cannot lay heavily on us for days or sometimes weeks or even months at a time. It is chronic. Isn't it?
I laughed because I do not think I could ever be the sort of person who is depressed. Look at my life! Look at my talents and cute husband and great job and family! I feel like I could deliver a commercial on how not depressed I am!! I feel like I could wave happiness pom-poms! I could perform a choreographed lip sync and do jazz hands on my happiness!!
But then there are days when it does feel like that dark monster is reaching towards me. It creeps and it begs and it knocks, wanting so badly to be let in. And sometimes, I let him in. (Depression has to be a man, right?)
I told my husband, "I'm an artist. It's okay to be depressed." Saying it out loud made it seem real, when I still can't quite decide if it is or not. "An artist?" he asked me. Because I am, and that may not be the entire reason, but it is a partial truth. Words and feelings and thoughts are my medium instead of paint and all artists are a little depressed and I think that is okay and even healthy to some extent and I am okay with it.
The point is, that sometimes with me, it feels like an accomplishment to just be a little more happy than sad, but I'll take it. I'll take happiness any way I can get it.